


Lonely Highways

by Gammarad



Category: Original Work
Genre: Carrying, Comfort Food, F/M, Healing, Healing Food, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Magic Returns And Destroys Civilization As We Know It, Post-Apocalypse, Rescue, Road Trips, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarad/pseuds/Gammarad
Summary: Rosa had wanted her own food truck since fourth grade, when she first ate at a food truck. Now she had the best food truck just about anyone she met had ever seen, or at least, seen in the last twenty-five years, since the Big Shift. There weren't many of any kind of truck anymore. Rosa only had hers operational because her mother had taught her skills, ones that came in very handy after everything changed.
Relationships: Post Apocalyptic Food Truck Driver/Hungry Injured Wilderness Traveler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	Lonely Highways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/gifts).



Rosa handed out the last of the tamales she'd made for the residents of Kingman, and threw a handful of taffy she'd wrapped in scraps of waxed paper to the children playing in the square. "See you later, Kingman," she said out the serving window. Then she closed the awning for her drive. The beeswax and glassware and jicama they'd traded her for the meals she'd served them was already stowed. 

She was heading west along the route of old Interstate 40. Parts of the roadway were still passable in the Mojave, and it was a good landmark. She'd make it through the Needles tonight and to the old military base where she had a couple friends who'd let her drop in, have some drinks, rest up and restock. The folks who lived at the former base raised a lot of chickens.

Ever since the Big Shift, there were creatures in the Needles that were dangerous even to Rosa. The skills she'd learned from her bruja mother let her keep her truck running and usually sufficed to scare off attackers, human and otherwise, but she was still wary. It wasn't the rainy season yet, though, and the worst of the storm demons were still hibernating; the stone haunts didn't like the rumble of her engines; and the dragons, well, her truck's wood paneling was as much to keep dragons from taking an interest as for the aesthetic of it. 

She could see the Needles in the corner of her windshield when she saw the figure lying in the shadows cast by nothing at the side of the road. Rosa wasn't sure it was human, but she wasn't sure it wasn't, and Mamá had always reminded her what she owed her brothers and sisters. 

She pulled the truck over and got out to see how bad it was. The best case was someone passed out drunk. She could pick them up and give them a lift away. Or maybe the best case was that this wasn't a person, but a sleeping creature who would stay asleep when she left it behind. One of the coyote-men, or a buffalo-woman. Worse if it was one of the Fair Folk; they would be only feigning sleep, but if she looked dangerous enough they might keep up the pretense. 

None of those proved to be the case. Human all right, and injured, caught by the leg in some kind of trap. Still might be a shapeshifter who'd been caught in animal form, but humans without those abilities were just as prone to stumbling over traps and less likely to be able to free themselves. 

Rosa muttered words of loosening and the trap's jaws sprang open. She twisted strength and lifted.

The person's head rested against Rosa's shoulder, their shaggy hair draped along her neck. It felt nice, the warmth of their cheek against the pulse in her throat. It had been a while since she was this up close with another person, she thought, and, no. These were improper thoughts to have about someone unconscious and wounded. 

Rosa rolled the trundle cot out from under her bed with her foot and set the stranger down on it as carefully as she could. Then she knelt down to examine their injured leg. Not too bad, as that sort of injury went. It would get infected if left untreated, but she wasn't going to do that. She had the ingredients to cook up a healing meal. Which she'd get right on doing as soon as she safely reached the military base. 

\--------

The onions were sizzling and the stack of tortillas was growing tall when she heard her guest begin to talk in their sleep, in Spanish accented just like what she'd always heard in her childhood. "Is it time for supper, Mamá?" she thought she heard, and "It smells so--" Rosa couldn't make out the last word, but she thought it had to be some synonym for tasty. 

"The food is almost ready," she said in English. She wasn't sure if they understood it, but she hoped so, because they were at the military base and the people here weren't very happy when guests needed translators. It wouldn't become a problem, they liked Rosa too much, but -- she didn't want the hassle. 

"Creo estar soñando," they said, sitting up. They thought this was a dream? 

"Not a dream. Can you speak English? They really prefer that here, and we're guests," Rosa said. 

"Yes, a little," they said. "The food, it is like... like a dream. A sleep dream." They tried to sit up. "Ay, me duele. The leg hurts."

"You got it caught in a trap," Rosa told them. From the voice and way of talking, probably him, but she would hate to make such a conclusion prematurely. Unfortunately, many people were even more offended by being told or asked as they were by being called the wrong thing. Manners were so different between different groups that it made talking to people a minefield when you didn't know their background. She did her best to walk the narrow line between offenses she could give. "I'm Rosa, by the way. I picked you up in the Needles. We're about fifty miles west of there now, at my friends' compound."

"In Mojave?" There was clear hesitation. "I'm called Diego." Another pause. "The food, you have enough to share? Please?"

"It's almost done. I made it for you, Diego."

He -- Rosa was nearly sure, given the combination of name and accent, she thought it was close enough to go on with -- lay back with a sigh. "Thank you."

She set the meal out on the table. It was for him, but she'd share it, to be sociable and to reassure him it was safe. And because it really did smell delicious.

Conversation stopped completely as Diego focused on food, hardly hesitating between each swallow and the next bite. Rosa ate more slowly, keeping a close eye on her guest. He had good table manners, not forgotten even when so hungry and in pain.

As he ate, wordless sounds of appreciation the only sort he made, Rosa took moments in between mouthfuls to glance down and to the side, toward the wound. It had already begun to close. The healing magic she'd cooked into the food had worked, and it was good that it had, because she was tired and hadn't been getting enough sleep, and the magic would fix that, too. 

By the time she was full, Rosa felt better than she had in weeks. And she could see that Diego's skin tone no longer had the undertone of sickly gray it had when she'd found him. 

"Is there more food?" he asked, then laughed as she widened her eyes in surprise. "No, I have enough, only a joke." 

Rosa smiled. "Let me take a look at your leg," she suggested. 

Diego lifted the injured leg to the bench and slid his shredded trouser leg up and out of the way. Rosa ran her fingers up and down it carefully, checking for any remaining sign of infection. "Does it feel sore when I press down here?" she asked, pushing against where she thought the trap had bitten deepest, where the calf curved in toward the ankle. 

"No, not sore," he said with a smile. A very nice smile.

Diego's skin was warm against her fingers. She remembered how it had felt carrying him to her truck. No, none of this distraction, Rosa told herself, as the warmth of the healing meal spread through her, relaxing tension she hadn't noticed till it faded away. She managed to remove her hand despite a part of her definitely not wanting to lose the skin-to-skin contact. "Good," she said. "You're ready to meet our hosts, then." 

"Okay," Diego said. His accent was so familiar, just like his table manners had been. 

"You're from Oaxaca, aren't you?" Rosa said, suddenly sure. "My grandmother was from there. Near the west border with Guerrero."

He said something in the same language her grandmother had spoken, Rosa thought. But she didn't know for certain, because she didn't speak it. She knew a few words, a set phrase or two, not enough to express herself at all. 

She didn't like to admit that, but it wasn't like she could pretend. Her magic didn't do languages. "I think that's what she spoke," she said, half attempt at connection, half at confession. 

"Okay," Diego said again. "The men here want English only, you say."

"Yeah," Rosa said, not wanting to correct him. It wasn't just men, but he was already trying so hard to use the language she'd asked for, which clearly wasn't his first or even second, and she wanted to reward that effort, not make him regret it. She liked him and didn't want to make him dislike her -- she wouldn't lie to herself, that was a big part of why she wanted to cut him slack. "The people here, they get antsy. I mean," she clarified, trying to simplify, not bewilder, "they don't like it when they can't understand _everything_ their visitors are saying."

"Paranoid," Diego said, grinning.

"You got it," Rosa said, disarmed by the teeth. He had good teeth -- she hadn't expected that. Her grandmother had had terrible teeth.

"Your family from Oaxaca, you call them?"

"Not really. Not easy to do that anymore, and even when I was a kid, and everyone had cell phones, they didn't have much reception. Or even all have phones, I don't think." And the child Rosa had been hadn't seen much point in calling people so far away, who lived such different lives. 

"No, no, I mean, their names?" A muscle spasmed in the corner of Diego's jaw.

Rosa realized her mistake. She gave him her great-grandparents' names, ones her mother had taken pains to ensure she would remember, impressing the significance of her lineage, of the power she had inherited. Rosa had not wanted it, but she'd remembered anyway.

"Yes, my family knows them," Diego said, nodding. "We are family, my cousin marries your cousin twenty, thirty years before." 

"So you're my cousin in law," Rosa said, feeling laughter bubble up from her belly, stopping it before it reached her mouth and might embarrass Diego, or her, or both of them. "It's a good thing I rescued you." She paused. "Why were you there, anyway?" 

"I search magic," he said with a flap of both hands, helpless and awkward. "The stones where I search have spirit creatures."

"That's," she had to stop and groan, "not how you get magic!"

"I believe you," he said flatly. 

Well, he'd have to, after eating that meal, wouldn't he? "Don't go back, it's dangerous."

He shrugged. "The men here permit me stay, maybe not."

It was really annoying to have to speak English. If they were quiet, they could have a proper conversation in Spanish, and the paranoid folk outside wouldn't have to know. She walked around and squeezed onto the bench with Diego on his side of the table. Her truck didn't have much room inside, so she was pressed tight against him, the warmth of him all along her side. She liked him _way too much_ for someone she'd just met and rescued. Maybe it was a side effect of the healing food. Probably not. She whispered into his ear in Spanish, "It's very dangerous there, and the spirits who dwell there won't give you magic. They have none you can take. And they might want to consume you. Plus traps, lots of traps, as you found out. You were lucky I'm the one who found you, Diego. Next time you might not have that good fortune."

He understood right away. Smart, too? Ugh. "I need magic, so if you have an alternative, tell me now, otherwise I won't have another choice. I am sorry to waste all your hard work and delicious meal if the monsters kill me when I go back." Double ugh: his Spanish was beautiful, and his accent made her nostalgic.

"Let me see if I can think of something." She was still up close next to him, whispering with her lips almost touching his cheek, and she knew her friends would smell their scents on each other and assume they were sleeping together. It was going to be embarrassing. Would it be better or worse if it was true, she wondered, but she tried to stop her mind going down that line of thought. "Meanwhile, let's go meet our hosts."

They stepped out of the truck and into the circle that had formed just outside the range of the truck's iron components. 

The people looked almost human in the twilight. Rosa raised one hand in a careful wave. "I'm happy to be back," she said. 

Her truck's headlights reflected back from the eyes of the one who stepped forward. None of the military base people ever gave their names. Rosa had traded with them many times, had become almost friends with a few, but while she felt sure they had names, she never heard them. The one whose eyes gleamed was one of the leaders, and not one of Rosa's almost-friends. "You have come to trade food with us." A shadow behind the leader twitched with suppressed hostility.

"Yes, as before, to prepare a good meal for you all." 

There were scattered cheers, mostly from the younger members of the group. They died down when a raucously loud sound echoed through the skies above. 

Dragon, Rosa thought, nearly panicking. She glanced at Diego, saw he was peering up into the sky to see what had made the sound. He said a word she didn't recognize. She twisted nightvision and saw what it was. Not a dragon. Not really much better, though. 

With an enormous wingspan, the predator bird circled, its cries a warning to any other of its kind, perhaps. Or a fair warning to its prey? Diego shouted at it, in Spanish which she had told him not to use here, warning the bird he would not be eaten. 

The creature was stooping, coming at them fast. Rosa shouted a warning and prepared to fight.

***

"That didn't go so well," Rosa panted. She looked around at the unconscious and wounded folks who lived at this compound, and the body of the monstrosity that had attacked them. Then she looked at her viscera-covered new friend, Diego. He might be drenched in gore, but none of it was his own. 

It could go either way, she thought. Either Diego would be their new best friend for saving them from the enraged creature, or they'd want him out immediately for bringing its wrath down on them. Knowing her friends' paranoia, she suspected the latter. But maybe that was a sort of wishful thinking? If they didn't want him, she might have to keep him... and she was starting to think she wanted to. 

"How about you help me cook them up something to make them feel better about..." Rosa wasn't sure how to end the sentence. 

"Okay," Diego said. 

"Better get cleaned up first," she told him. Didn't want any of that stuff on him getting into the food. She checked on the ones who looked worst injured, putting a stabilizing charm if she sensed it was needed. She didn't want anyone to die while she was cooking. 

One of the guys stood up while she was doing that. She helped him to his feet, noticing he didn't seem to have anything worse than bruises. "You can get cleaned up at my place," he offered.

Did he mean just her? She took advantage of English's imprecision. "Thanks, for both of us." If he wanted to exclude Diego, he'd have to say so out loud. But he only nodded.

By the time Rosa was ready to leave, two meals served to the whole compound and fully stocked with chicken, charcoal, eggs, and ethanol, she knew they'd take Diego. He didn't want to stay, and that she didn't want to leave him behind. But it would be best for everyone, she told herself. She was worn out. It'd be good to be on the road, though she could have used a good ten hours' sleep to be better rested for the long drive to her next regular customers.

"You should stay here," she said again as Diego helped her fold up the windows and get the truck ready for the next leg of her trip west. 

"No," he said, and leaned over to whisper in Spanish, "They might like me enough to let me hang around, but they won't share their magic with me."

"Nothing at the Needles is going to share with you either," Rosa pointed out.

"I take magic from them, if they won't," he said in English, out loud. "Not from these people."

She shook her head. Maybe he did kill one of those things, with her and her friends helping, but alone in their home territory, she didn't like his chances. "Maybe I'd share," she said. 

He looked at her questioningly.

"Maybe," she repeated.

When the truck left the compound, Diego was driving. Rosa was catching up on much-needed sleep.


End file.
